


Can anybody find me (Somebody to Love)?

by Haydenn11



Series: Good Omens Greatest Hits [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley had a tumultuous relationship with God, M/M, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Song: Somebody To Love (Queen), Songfic, They have no idea what to do about that, smiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haydenn11/pseuds/Haydenn11
Summary: 10. Somebody to LoveCrawley was certain of one thing: He was the most unloved being in Heaven, Hell, and this new world in between.It wouldn’t have been so bad if he couldn’t remember what love had felt like, but he could. There was a gaping hole inside of him where his grace, where Her love had been. It was aching and empty. The nothingness of it terrified him. The longer he thought about it, the more all consuming if felt. He desired nothing at all but to fill the hole, to love and be loved once more.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Greatest Hits [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069535
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Can anybody find me (Somebody to Love)?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote another longish fic. I keep meaning for these to be short little one shots, and then they're not. Sorry, I'm not sorry.  
> I also wrote another angsty fic, but this one had a happy ending.  
> I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments and feedback are always appreciated.

[ Somebody to Love by Queen ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kijpcUv-b8M&ab_channel=QueenOfficial)

* * *

Crawley was certain of one thing: He was the most unloved being in Heaven, Hell, and this new world in between. 

When he arrived in the garden, he had not expected a warm welcome, per se, but neither had he been prepared for the cold reception he had gotten. Adam and Eve wanted nothing to do with him. Eve had screamed at the sight of him and Adam had thrown rocks. The other animals in the garden, birds, beasts and insects alike, all fled from him when he approached. Even the other snakes, which Crawley had hoped to find some kinship with, avoided him. He was too much like them while being too obviously not for them to feel comfortable or safe. 

Days passed, weeks perhaps, the constructs of time were still in development, so Crawley couldn’t be sure of the exact duration. What he was sure of, however, was that he was the loneliest being in existence. He was rejected by Heaven and Hell both. Hell had tried to make the job on Earth sound like an honor, his unholiest duty, but Crawley was not fooled. He had been sent to Earth because it was away from Hell and his fellow demons couldn’t stand the sight of him. Apparently, neither could anything else. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad if he couldn’t remember what love had felt like, but he could. There was a gaping hole inside of him where his grace, where Her love had been. It was aching and empty. The nothingness of it terrified him. The longer he thought about it, the more all consuming if felt. He desired nothing at all but to fill the hole, to love and be loved once more. 

* * *

It was morning when he first saw the angel. Crawley woke up with the dawn and died a little when he saw that the tree he had fallen asleep on, which had been occupied by a large number of sleeping birds when he got there the night before, was empty. He slithered his way down the trunk and across the dew soaked grass to a pool for a drink. Strictly speaking, he did not need to drink, or eat, or sleep for that matter, but it was what the other inhabitants of the garden did, and Crawley was desperate to show them he was like them, not to be feared. 

He caught sight of his reflection in the stillness of the pool and for a moment he could understand why the other animals avoided him. His scaly red and black visage hardly endeared him. His coloring screamed “Dangerous! Stay away!” and his unblinking yellow eyes were unnerving, even for him. Had he been capable of shedding tears in this form, he might have cried. 

The sun peeked over the wall surrounding the garden, throwing it’s warm rays over Crawley. He managed to find a sliver of joy in that and looked appreciatively at the sunrise. He started at the sight of a shape silhouetted against the light. He thought at first that it was Adam. It certainly appeared man-shaped, but this being was shorter and softer than God’s first human. When the being shifted position, it’s wings became visible and Crawley was simultaneously intrigued and terrified when he realized he was looking at an angel. 

The angel stayed on the wall all day, sometimes pacing, sometimes just looking out over the garden, holding his flaming sword at the ready. Crawley kept to the shadows and tried his best to act like all the other snakes. He kept the angel ever in his sight, wary and looking for any sign of recognition or hostility. 

The next day, Crawley’s curiosity got the better of him. He slithered up a tree, one of the ones whose branches skimmed against the top of the wall, to get a closer look. He stayed tightly wound around his branch, as much in the shadows as he could manage and waited for the angel to make his way toward him. His patience was soon rewarded. 

If Crawley had been in the habit of breathing, his breath might have caught at the sight of the angel. He was beautiful. His face was kind and gentle with warm blue eyes and bouncy blonde curls. His body looked soft and inviting. Crawley flicked his tongue out and tasted the air. He even tasted good. Crawley fought the urge to slither over, wrap himself around the angel’s plush body, and never let go. He was aware of how dangerous that thought was, but before his better judgment could kick in and tell him to run away, the angel spotted him. 

“Oh, hello!” The angel said with a jaunty wave. 

Crawley stayed very still and hoped the angel was talking to someone else, but the angel approached him and dashed that hope. 

“Who are you? I don’t think I’ve seen one of you yet.” The angel reached out a hand and stroked the top of Crawley’s head. He instinctively flinched and hissed. The angel drew his hand back immediately. “Oh, I am sorry! I should have asked permission. Your skin just looks like it would feel very interesting.”

Crawley flicked his tongue out and ventured tentatively away from his branch and towards the angel. 

“May I stroke you, my dear?”

Crawley flicked his tongue out again and the angel correctly took it as permission. This time when soft fingers stroked his head, Crawley was ready for it. He didn’t flinch or hiss, instead he leaned into the touch slightly and flicked his tongue against the angel’s wrist. 

“My, you do feel interesting. I expected you to be rough, but your skin is quite smooth. Very different from the other birds and beasts I’ve met. I haven’t met many, though. I’m not supposed to have met any of them, truth be told. I was sent here to guard the Easter Gate, _not_ pet the inhabitants.”

Crawley felt a vague stab of jealousy at the idea of the angel petting anyone else, but it was soothed away by the soft fingers running along his jaw. 

“It’s been very lonely up here.” The angel said quietly, more to himself than to Crawley. 

Crawley felt a surge of affection towards the angel. He was the only other being in the garden who was truly alone, who had no one else like him, no one else to find true kinship with. Even if the angel had been received more favorably by the locals, it still had to be lonely being the only angel on this plane of existence. At least as lonely as it was being the only demon. 

Crawley slithered further towards the angel, moving up his arm and entwining himself around the angel’s shoulders just as he had imagined doing a few moments before. The angel let him and seemed to enjoy the weight on his shoulders. He sat on the edge on the wall and they stayed there a long time. Crawley almost fell asleep, reveling in the combined warmth of the sun and the angel and the steady rhythm of a soft hand stroking is snout. 

“I wish I knew your name; you’re a very beautiful creature.” He leaned over and pressed a chaste, almost absentminded, kiss to the top of Crawley’s head. 

A strange feeling came over Crawley. He felt too full and too empty at the same time. Everything was too much. It felt like his body couldn’t handle being shown real kindness. He thought he might discorporate from the weight of the muchness. He want to change forms, but could not do so in view of the angel. He would surly not keep saying such lovely things if he knew what Crawley really was. There was only one thing to do, so he did it. He fled. 

The angel made a surprised sound that changed quickly to disappointment, when Crawley slithered away as fast as his current corporation would let him. He went back across the branch and down the tree without looking back or listening to the woeful pleas behind him. 

When he reached the other side of the garden, as far away from the Eastern Gate as he could manage, Crawley shifted into his true demonic form. He was more or less man shaped, nude, with huge black wings, like the angel’s, but charred. He fell to his knees as soon as he had knees to fall on. His heart, which did not, strictly speaking, need to beat, hammered against his ribs like it was trying to escape. Crawley couldn’t contain it. It was too broken and too full all at once to belong to him.

“Please,” he whispered to the air. He wasn’t praying exactly, demons weren’t supposed to do that, but he also had no doubt of who he was talking to, “please, I know I have no right to ask, but please.

He paused, unsure exactly he was asking for, unsure if anyone was listening. He waited for a response, some encouragement that he could continue. None came. Hot tears, the kind his snake form was incapable of creating welled up in his still snakelike eyes. They spilled over and rolled down his cheeks. 

“Please,” he said again with a shuddering breath, running his hand through his mess of flaming curls, “if you ever loved me, if there is any love still possible for me, let it be him. Let him love me.”

He raised his tear-soaked face to the sky and waited for a response or be smote where he knelt. But again, there was nothing. Somehow, Her indifference was worse than her contempt. 

* * *

Over the next few weeks, maybe they were months, Crawley was still unsure when it came to time. What he was sure of was that he saw the angel more and more over the next interval of it. He learned the Angel’s name, Aziraphale, and he longed to tell him his own. That was impossible, however, without revealing his true self, so he let the Angel call him “my dear” and learned to love it more than anything. 

The angel seemed to enjoy his company well. On days when Crawley didn’t slither up a tree to the top of the wall, the angel would come find him, beam at him, and bend down to allow Crawley to slither onto his shoulders. Aziraphale would stroke his chin and talk endlessly about everything from the goings on of Heaven and the humans in the garden, to ideas he had for stories. Crawley wasn’t sure exactly what stories were, they hadn’t officially been invented yet, but he liked when Aziraphale told them. 

On one such afternoon, Aziraphale was telling him a story about some other angels named Gabriel and Sandalphon. Crawley was only half paying attention, the angel’s ever present hand stroking his chin was lulling him into a doze. 

“And of course, Gabriel was over the moon about it! Thought it was terribly clever. Only, he said Sandalphon was so terribly clever for having thought of it, when I was the one who said it first.” Aziraphale paused and Crawley heard a slight twinge of bitterness when he added, “He must not have heard me.”

Crawley flicked his tongue against the angel’s cheek, relishing the sweet, slightly spicy, taste of him. He curled a little tighter around shoulders, trying to reassure him and sooth the bitterness he’d heard in his voice. 

“He does that a lot.” Aziraphale added after a while. His voice sounded small and sad. “Sometimes I think he sent me here just to be rid of me for a while. I’m sure that’s not the case, but still, one can’t help but to wonder.”

Crawley’s heart broke and not for the first time. The angel had given him more than one reason to believe that his fellow angels appreciated him as much as Crawley’s fellow demons appreciated him. 

“Sometimes I just long to go home and stay there,” Aziraphale continued, idly stroking Crawley, “not that you aren’t excellent company, my dear. Sometimes I think you’re the only being in all the world who cares for me, but that’s silly. You don’t even understand what I’m saying.”

Crawley longed to speak to the angel, to hold him, to let him know that he wasn’t alone. There was, in fact, another being in the world, in this very garden, who understood how he felt. 

It was a mad idea. If Crawley had taken a moment to think it through, he probably wouldn’t have done it. But, like so many things in his life, Crawley acted first, and thought through later. He slithered down from the angel’s shoulders to a spot a little ways away and assumed his usual shape, manifesting robes like Aziraphale’s, only in black. 

He turned to face Aziraphale, noticing as he did that he was rather taller than him now. He fully expected to see the angel with the same doting beam he usually wore. He was unprepared for the look of pure shock and horror on the angel’s face. He hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. 

The angel didn’t give him a chance to get certain, “Who in the world are you?”

“I’m Craw–”

“You’re a demon!” Aziraphale spat, eyeing his dark wings. “Have you been spying on me this whole time?”

“No.” Crawley tried to step forward, but the angel brandished his flaming sword and Crawley stopped. 

“Get back, foul fiend! And tell me exactly why you have been seeking me out!”

Crawley fought the urge to cry. “I was just lonely, angel. Just lonely, like you.”

“I’m supposed to believe that! I– I never should have trusted you, you, you WILY SERPENT!” 

“Angel.” Crawley pled, unable to keep the brokenness out of his voice. 

“Tell me why you’re here!” Aziraphale demanded with another brandish of his flaming sword.

“I’m not spying on you, I swear. Below just sent me up to make some trouble, but I swear, I’m not trying to hurt you, or anything, really.”

“A demon sent from hell to ‘make some trouble’ isn’t trying to hurt anything?” The angle repeated, incredulous. Then he added in a betrayed whisper, “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“No! Angel, I could never think that.” 

“Good.” Aziraphale spat. “Because you may have been able to fool me one, but I will not make that mistake again. Get out of this garden, hell-beast. Get out of my sight!”

“Angel, please, don’t send me away.”

“I mean it, demon, leave now or I will send you back to whence you came!”

Crawley couldn’t stop the tears that poured down his face. He had been so used to being the angel’s _dear_ that it was inconceivable to believe he was reduced to _foul fiend_ , _wily serpent_ , _hell-beast_ , and _demon_. He heard the words, but struggled to comprehend, like Aziraphale was suddenly speaking a different language. He saw the flaming swording being brandished in his direction, but struggled to understand that the angel was really sending him away. 

“Angel, please!” Crawley begged, trying once more to close the distance between them. 

“Go to Hell!” 

Aziraphale raised his flaming sword aloft and brought it down in a powerful blow. A shock radiated from the swinging sword and hit Crawley full in the chest. It tore through him with all the force of a lightning bolt. It burned. Crawley was aware of his corporation disintegrating, saw the flesh reduced to cinders, and through the mess of it, he saw the angel’s face contorted with rage and something else, something that reflected the broken feeling inside his own chest.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Crawley woke up on the floor of a dingy room with stone floors and no windows. The dim lighting and putrid smell invaded his senses, and he immediately knew where he was. 

“Hello, Crawley.” A gravely voice came seemingly from nowhere and dread sank through Crawley like a lead balloon. 

“Hassstur,” he hissed, sounding much more confident than he felt, “what an exceptionally unpleasant surprise.”

“Back already, huh?” 

“So it would seem.” Crawley pushed himself to his feet and faced Hastur who had been lurking in the doorway behind him. 

“What? Two humans and a petting zoo too much for you?” 

“If you must know, there was an angel.”

“An angel?”

“Yes, Hastur, an angel. You remember what they are, hmm?”

Hasturn grinned, it was toad-like and unpleasant. “I remember. Are you telling me that you weren’t a match for one lonely angel.”

Crawley fought against the stab of pain in his chest at those words, “He snuck up on me.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Hastur rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, piss off!” Crawley growled. “Think what you want, the point is, I'm back now and that’s that.”

“S’not.”

“What?”

“We’re sending you back up. Satan’s orders.” Hastur’s unpleasant smile widened. 

“You’re what?”

“Sending. You. Back.” Hastur said slowly, like Crawley was an idiot. “Satan wants you to tempt the humans to eat God’s forbidden fruit.”

“How am I meant to do that?” Crawley made no attempt to hide the slight hysteria in his voice. “Isn’t the whole point of humans to do as God tells them?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Hastur grinned even wider and Crawley felt sick. “Besides, you won’t have to worry about the angel anymore.”

Cold fear sliced through his heart. “Why?”

“Rumor has it, the angel has been instructed to stay out of your way where the humans are concerned.”

“Why?”

“Because the humans eating the fruit is apparently all part of the Great Plan. We’re sending you up to set it in motion, no one from the opposition will stop you. This is a job even you can’t screw up.”

“Great.” Crawley gave a tight nod and tried not to physically react to the thought of going back up and seeing Aziraphale again. 

Haster let out a slimy, croaking laugh, “But Ligur and I are still betting you do.”

Crawley didn’t have time to look offended before Hastur snapped and he felt a powerful tug pulling him upward. 

* * *

Crawley arrived back in the garden, the sunshine warming away the suffocating feeling Hell had left. He took a moment to gather his bearings. He was standing in an empty clearing surrounded by tall trees with a pool in it. He recognized it as the place he had first seen the angel. He cast a furtive glance at the Eastern Gate. There no angel atop the wall. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

A tiny cough sounded from somewhere behind him. Crawley whipped around to see the angel emerging from the trees. 

“Demon,” he said curtly. 

“Angel,” Crawley responded, a little breathless. 

“I see you made it back.”

“I did.”

The silence that followed was heavy and stifling. It went on long past awkward and into uneasy and cumbersome. Crawley fidgeted and looked around the clearing, letting his eyes land anywhere but the Angel’s scrutinizing gaze. Aziraphale seemed unaffected. He just stared at Crawley with narrowed eyes, head cocked to one side like he was trying to get the measure of him. 

The silence stretched on, making the distance between seem even more insurmountable. Crawley finally looked at Azirapahle’s face and hated the way his heart stuttered when blue eyes met his. He still loved the angel, he knew. He still wanted the angel to love him, to look at him with an indulgent smile and stroke his hair. Instead the angel looked suspicious and hurt. 

“Aziraphale,” Crawley started, desperate to explain and make things right between them, but Aziraphale put up a hand.

“Look, I don’t know why you came to me before. I don’t understand why you let me care for you. If it was your idea of a sick game or–” The angel let out a laugh that was strangely close to a sob. “Maybe you don’t even understand. You’re a demon after all, it’s not like you understand love.”

“I do too!” Crawley took a defiant step forward and threw up his hands. “I didn’t ask to be a demon, you know!”

“AND I DIDN’T ASK TO LOVE ONE!” 

The outburst stunned Crawley into silence. His mouth hung open slightly. 

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have shouted.” Aziraphale seemed almost as shocked by his outburst as Crawley was. “My point is that I don’t understand why you showed me kindness before and it doesn’t matter. My understanding is that you have been sent back to perform a very specific task and I’ve been instructed not to stop you. That is all well and good. Well, not _good,_ obviously, you’re a demon.”

Aziraphale paused and looked at Crawley, who was still struggling to regain the power of speech. 

“The point is,” he went on, “That we’re not friends. Whatever you might have thought before, we are _hereditary enemies_ , and unless it is strictly business related, I don’t want to see you again.”

“You love me?” Crawley found his voice. 

Aziraphale shuffled his feet and fisted his robes, “Don’t be silly. You’re a demon. I did grow to have a certain... affection for you before, yes, but it’s neither here nor there. I don’t want to see you again unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Angel, I–” Crawley choked. He looked at the angel and saw his own pain mirrored there for a moment. He wanted to tell the Aziraphale how he felt, that he loved him too, Heaven and Hell be damned, because they couldn’t stop the way he felt. But one look at the angel’s broken expression told him he wasn’t ready to hear any of that. 

“I’m glad we understand each other.” Aziraphale said, returning to his formerly curt manner. He turned on heal and strode away from the clearing without another word or a glance backward. 

* * *

In the end, Hastur was right, the job was one Crawley couldn’t screw up. It wasn’t easy, though. He tried and failed several times over the next few days, he was fairly sure it was days, time was getting a little more concrete now. 

He focused on Eve, she seemed the most receptive to him when he showed up in his snake form and whispered to them. He imbued his whispers with demonic power to keep the humans from fleeing, and wondered idly why he had not thought to do that before. Eve seemed to fall more easily under his thrall so he went back to her again and again, whispering, showing her the possibilities around her. She seemed intrigued. 

Crawley saw the angel every day. He stood atop the wall, watching him work, but never coming down like he did before. He never spoke or gave any indication whatsoever that he even noticed Crawley, but Crawley was sure that the Angel was watching his every movement with attentive scrutinization. 

On the day Eve finally ate the apple, Crawley mustered up the courage to speak to Aziraphale again. The angel had said he only wanted to see Crawley if it were business related. Surly, informing Aziraphale that he had completed his mission would fall into that category. 

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.” He said when he retook his usual demonic form. 

“What was that?”

“I said, that went down like a lead balloon.”

“Oh, yes it did, rather.” 

Aziraphale seemed nervous and awkward, but he didn’t send Crawley away. Instead, Crawley was finally able to tell the angel his name, and hear the Angel say it out loud. He liked the way his name sounded coming from the Aziraphale’s mouth. 

Aziraphale told him he’d given his flaming sword to the humans. Crawley was impressed. More than impressed, he was awed. Crawley admired the angel’s casual defiance of God’s rules. He liked the way the angel hadn’t stopped to ask questions, he had simply done what he thought was right. The Angel’s confidence warmed him. 

For his part, Aziraphale seemed to want to prolong the conversation between them. Seemed to take comfort in having someone to talk to. When the dark storm clouds billowed on the horizon and the first fat raindrops began to fall, Crawley made a small movement to leave and find shelter. The Angel halted him by lifting one wing and glancing at the stop next to him. Crawley moved closer until he and Aziraphale were almost touching. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. 

“Just being friendly.” Azirapahle said. They were closer than they had ever been in their human corporations. Crawley felt goosebumps rise unbidden on his forearms. 

“You said we weren’t friends.”

“I know.” Aziraphale blushed and looked down at his hands. “But perhaps we could be? Sounds like I’m going to be up here for quite some time, and I miss having someone to talk to.”

Crawley nodded, “I’d like that.”

Aziraphale smiled and Crawley longed to lean in, to wrap himself around the angel and feel at peace, at home, forever but he didn’t. He knew they were a long way off from that, but Aziraphale’s indulgent smile gave him the first glint of real hope he had had since his Fall. He might be a demon. He might be damned and unforgivable in the eyes of God and everyone else, but not his angel. He could see the affection in Aziraphale’s expression and knew deep in his soul that he had found someone to fill the hole left by his grace. In her own convoluted way, God had answered his prayer and given him someone to love.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Follow me on Tumblr!](https://haydenn.tumblr.com/)


End file.
